Young Love
by Fantasy Dreamer the Believer
Summary: Claire used to be a city girl. But when she got a letter from her dad's wife, she was sent away to For-Get-Me-Not-Valley. Farming is not easy and it is hard for her to make friends. What happens when a certain bar tender steals her heart.


Prolog

I opened a cabinet and started routing through the cupboards. Hunger was gnawing at my stomach. I haven't eaten in, what, five hours? Yet, there was nothing left to eat. I swear that I just went to the supermarket yesterday.

"Chelsea!" I called. Silents. I rolled my eyes and grabbed a spoon. Not just any spoon. _The_ spoon. It was a gigantic spoon that was as tall as my mother.

I made my way down the hall and up to my little sisters room. I put my hand on the door handle and turned the knob. Chelsea was face down on the bed. Her arm was draped over the side and her hand was inside a bowl of salsa.

Food was scattered around her room. Chips tangled in her plush rug. Cereal was all over the place along as every other food that I had bought.

I tiptoed over to her bed. I climbed on top of the bed and toward over her. Raising the spoon over my head, I took a deep breath. I slammed the spoon down on Chelsea and screamed at the top of my lungs.

"GET UP!" I started jumping up and down on her bed. Chelsea moaned and turned over.

"Go away," she muttered. I stopped bouncing.

"Are you going to get up?" I asked. Chelsea shook her head. I started bouncing again.

"OH, IT'S TIME TO GET UP, IT'S TIME TO GET UP IN THE MORNING!" I sang. Chelsea grabbed a pillow and whacked me in the face with it.

"SHUT THE EFF UP, CLAIRE!" She screamed. Chelsea sat up and shoved me off the bed. I hit the ground with a loud thud. I groaned.

"NEVER!" I gasped. I hopped up and ran out of the room. I grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. Slowly, I made a list and ran back to Chelsea. I shoved the paper in her face.

"What's this?" Chelsea asked. I smiled. Chelsea took the list from me and read it.

"It's the grocery list," I stated matter of fact. "For all the food that you destroyed." Chelsea sighed.

"Fine," she muttered. "But isn't it, like, 7 in the morning?" I rolled my eyes.

"No, but you were close. It's five in the afternoon." Chelsea groaned and got up. She grabbed a pair of clothes and ran into the bathroom.

I walked outside and to the mailbox. Chelsea ran past me saying that she'll be back. I pulled out a stack of letters and went trough them. One caught my eye. I bolted back inside and locked myself in my room. Slowly, I started reading the strange handwriting.

Dear Ms Hills and her family,

You might not remember me, Ms Hills. I am Georgia Robinson, Jack's wife. Even tough you might not want to read this, I beg that you do. For Jack, my husband and your ex husband, has... died.

Now that Jack has died he left all his animals to die to. I cannot care for them. I've never cared for farming. The only reason why I stayed was for the love of my husband.

Now, I know you might not want to farm. But you have two beautiful daughters. Chelsea is now sixteen and Claire is eighteen. One might want to be a farmer.

I wish you well and hope you will think about it.

Sincerely,

Georgia Robinson.

I read and re-read the letter over and over again. Dad... died? But why didn't Georgia call us? I always knew she was heartless, but this heartless. I spent an hour thinking about the letter. Finally, I heard mom come home from work and Chelsea say that she made dinner. I folded the letter and put it in my pocket.

"Well, where have you been for these long hours?" My mother asked. I rolled my eyes.

"I was only in my room for an hour, mom," I laughed. My mother flashed me a smile and winked.

"Chelsea made dinner," she said. I sighed. Mac&cheese. Again. We all sat around the table and started eating. Mom and Chelsea were having a conversation about going on vacation to an island. I couldn't focus on the subject.

"Claire," my mother asked. "Are you alright?" She was smiling at me. I had gotten her looks. The blonde hair and blue eyes. Except that my mother's cheeks were covered in freckles.

"Jack died," I murmured. Mother dropped her fork.

"What?" she asked. I took out the letter and handed it to her. She read over it and anger covered her face. Mother crumpled the letter and threw it across the room.

"The _nerve_ of that woman!" she fumed. I gulped.

"Well, I was thinking I could farm," I whispered. Mother's anger turned on me.

"What?!" She roared.

"I think it's a good idea," Chelsea spoke up. She was holding Georgia's letter. "I mean, Claire's eighteen. She can do what she wants." Mother didn't say anything. She just closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"It's up to Claire," Mother said. They both looked at me. Well, I guess I was going to be a farmer.


End file.
